our home, away from our children.
It was right before Thanksgiving, 1997. Alan and I had been married almost eighteen years. We had come through so much together. We had three beautiful daughters. Mattie was seven, and Ali was four; Dani was just three months old.
Dani would smile a big baby smile when I smiled at her. But I couldnât smile much. Mostly I just cried. What should have been the happiest time in my life had become a bad dream. I was so angry and hurt that I could not really talk to Alan, except in the shortest sentences possible to make plans about the girls.
Relentless Pain
We somehow made it through Thanksgiving and Christmas. It was a terrible strain. We went through the motions of acting normal for the kids. During the holidays one of my girlfriends, trying to help, suggested that we get a group of friends together and take off for Steamboat Springs, Colorado.
Steamboat was snow-covered, beautiful . . . and absolutely desolate for me. My friends were wonderful, but all I could think about was Alanâs looming departure.
As we were heading home and the plane barreled down the runway in Steamboat Springs, there was a huge rumble and thud. Maybe it was an engine misfiring. All I knew was that Iâd never heard anything like it in all my years of flying, and we were just about to take off, the most critical time in the flight. I thought that the plane was going to crash.
----
I SLOWLY CLIMBED THE CURVING STAIRCASE TO OUR MASTER BEDROOM SUITE AND PUT MY SUITCASE DOWN.
MOST OF ALANâS THINGS WERE GONE.
I CRAWLED BETWEEN THE COOL, CRISP SHEETS IN OUR QUEEN-SIZED BED. ALONE.
----
Oddly enough, though, I didnât feel any fear at all. All I could think was that at least death would release me from this terrible emotional pain. For the first time in my life, I could begin to understand a little of what my brother Ron may have felt like before he took his own life. I wasnât suicidalâI knew I could not leave our childrenâbut I felt absolutely overwhelmed by desperation and misery. I could understand how people can become dependent on alcohol or drugs. Anything to relieve the relentless pain.
Our flight from Steamboat made it into the air, and we arrived safely back in Nashville. I slowly climbed the curving staircase to our master bedroom suite and put my suitcase down. Most of Alanâs things were gone. I crawled between the cool, crisp sheets in our queen-sized bed. Alone.
Alan came back the next day . . . but only to retrieve a few clothes and to visit with the girls. And then I watched the only man Iâd ever loved drive down the long road that led out of our dream home, away from the life weâd built together.
Alan soon realized that the lake house was too far away for him to visit regularly with the girls, so he rented a house close to the kidsâ school. Heâd pick them up and take them out for ice cream, a movie, the park. As always, when he wasnât out of town, he wanted to be with the girls as much as possible. Both of us wanted to keep our emotions at bay and make life seem ânormal.â Whatever that was.
When we told Mattie and Ali that Daddy was going to live somewhere else,Mattie shook her head back and forth, tears on her round cheeks.
âBut nothingâs wrong!â she cried. âWhy? Why?â
That was my question too.No marriage was perfect. Why did he expect so much? Why could he not just be happy with the way things were?
I also realized that I had known, down deep, Alan was right. Our relationship wasnât all it could be. But I hadnât wanted to face that fact, and so Iâd buried it inside me somewhere. Now I thought back over our years together. Where did we go wrong?
Certainly the celebrity lifestyle had had its challenges, but we had weathered them pretty well. Alan was on the road a lot, and it always surprised me how some women threw themselves at him. Some enamored fans would go to any extreme to
It was right before Thanksgiving, 1997. Alan and I had been married almost eighteen years. We had come through so much together. We had three beautiful daughters. Mattie was seven, and Ali was four; Dani was just three months old.
Dani would smile a big baby smile when I smiled at her. But I couldnât smile much. Mostly I just cried. What should have been the happiest time in my life had become a bad dream. I was so angry and hurt that I could not really talk to Alan, except in the shortest sentences possible to make plans about the girls.
Relentless Pain
We somehow made it through Thanksgiving and Christmas. It was a terrible strain. We went through the motions of acting normal for the kids. During the holidays one of my girlfriends, trying to help, suggested that we get a group of friends together and take off for Steamboat Springs, Colorado.
Steamboat was snow-covered, beautiful . . . and absolutely desolate for me. My friends were wonderful, but all I could think about was Alanâs looming departure.
As we were heading home and the plane barreled down the runway in Steamboat Springs, there was a huge rumble and thud. Maybe it was an engine misfiring. All I knew was that Iâd never heard anything like it in all my years of flying, and we were just about to take off, the most critical time in the flight. I thought that the plane was going to crash.
----
I SLOWLY CLIMBED THE CURVING STAIRCASE TO OUR MASTER BEDROOM SUITE AND PUT MY SUITCASE DOWN.
MOST OF ALANâS THINGS WERE GONE.
I CRAWLED BETWEEN THE COOL, CRISP SHEETS IN OUR QUEEN-SIZED BED. ALONE.
----
Oddly enough, though, I didnât feel any fear at all. All I could think was that at least death would release me from this terrible emotional pain. For the first time in my life, I could begin to understand a little of what my brother Ron may have felt like before he took his own life. I wasnât suicidalâI knew I could not leave our childrenâbut I felt absolutely overwhelmed by desperation and misery. I could understand how people can become dependent on alcohol or drugs. Anything to relieve the relentless pain.
Our flight from Steamboat made it into the air, and we arrived safely back in Nashville. I slowly climbed the curving staircase to our master bedroom suite and put my suitcase down. Most of Alanâs things were gone. I crawled between the cool, crisp sheets in our queen-sized bed. Alone.
Alan came back the next day . . . but only to retrieve a few clothes and to visit with the girls. And then I watched the only man Iâd ever loved drive down the long road that led out of our dream home, away from the life weâd built together.
Alan soon realized that the lake house was too far away for him to visit regularly with the girls, so he rented a house close to the kidsâ school. Heâd pick them up and take them out for ice cream, a movie, the park. As always, when he wasnât out of town, he wanted to be with the girls as much as possible. Both of us wanted to keep our emotions at bay and make life seem ânormal.â Whatever that was.
When we told Mattie and Ali that Daddy was going to live somewhere else,Mattie shook her head back and forth, tears on her round cheeks.
âBut nothingâs wrong!â she cried. âWhy? Why?â
That was my question too.No marriage was perfect. Why did he expect so much? Why could he not just be happy with the way things were?
I also realized that I had known, down deep, Alan was right. Our relationship wasnât all it could be. But I hadnât wanted to face that fact, and so Iâd buried it inside me somewhere. Now I thought back over our years together. Where did we go wrong?
Certainly the celebrity lifestyle had had its challenges, but we had weathered them pretty well. Alan was on the road a lot, and it always surprised me how some women threw themselves at him. Some enamored fans would go to any extreme to
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